Zaragoza

Posted on September 29, 2015 by Cindy

remains of the Roman wall with the Mercado Central in the background

Zaragoza, capital of the Spanish province of Aragón, was established as a river port by the Romans in 25 BCE. It was named for Caesar Augustus. If you slur his name a bit and truncate the syllables, you can almost get from “Caesar Augustus” to “Zaragoza,” especially if you lisp the z’s like you’re supposed to in Castilian Spanish. While you’re practicing that, take a look at some of the photos Marcus took of the city.

the Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Pilar – I just call her Pilar after my favorite character in For Whom the Bell Tolls.

closeup of Pilar’s beautifully tiled domes

lovely fountain in the Plaza del Pilar

recently excavated Roman amphitheater

Puerta del Carmen – site of a key battle in the Napoleonic War in which the Aragonese kicked butt!

El Tubo (The Pipe) – the site of some of the best tapas in Zaragoza

migas - a mix of breadcrumbs sautéed in olive oil with bits & pieces of delicious things & topped with anything from the kitchen you choose

migas – a mix of breadcrumbs sautéed in olive oil with bits & pieces of delicious things added & topped with anything from the kitchen you choose. Our choice was a fried egg. Pure comfort food!

La Rioja

Posted on September 27, 2015 by Cindy

a hilltop village in La Rioja

We passed through the province of La Rioja on our way from the Basque Country to the city of Zaragoza in the province of Aragón. La Rioja is the primary wine region of Spain and produces some excellent wines, in our humble opinions. The countryside reminds me of Il Chianti in Italy.

This happens to be harvest season. We saw many pickers in the vineyards, and every 15 minutes or so passed one of these trailers laden with fresh-picked grapes. Looks like it will be a good season!

Donostia (San Sebastián)

Posted on September 26, 2015 by Cindy

La Concha beach in Donostia

people starting to line up on the red carpet for the film festival stars

people starting to line up along the red carpet to see the stars

We drove into the Basque province of Guipúzcoa to see San Sebastián, or Donostia as they call it in the Basque language. It’s really quite the cosmopolitan city; in fact, there’s an international film festival going on there now. It’s a beautiful oceanside city just a hop, skip, and a jump from Biarritz, France.

We did a little shopping, ate a few pintxos (the Basque equivalent of tapas), drank a little txakoli (local white wine), and thoroughly enjoyed just wandering all over the city.

First you choose where to eat.

Then you ask what’s in everything.

Then you eat!

Bilbão

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

the stained glass window that welcomed us at Bilbão-Abando train station

Here we are in Bilbão, the heart of Basque Country, or El País Vasco in Spanish and Euskadi in the Basque language Euskara.

random brickwork on a derelict building

I don’t know about you, but I used to mentally connect the Basque Country to terrorism. There was so much of it in the news in the 1980s. At that time, I knew the Basque Country was sandwiched between Spain and France in the Pyrenees Mountains, but I thought it was an independent country. What I learned in reading up for this trip is that the Basque Country is comprised of four Spanish Basque provinces and three French Basque provinces that want to become one country of seven Basque provinces. Hence their political equation: 4+3=1. Makes sense; many cohesive ethnicities existed before today’s political boundaries divided them. Borders continue to shift and change accordingly.

The Basque provinces have wanted independence since the time they were incorporated into Spain and France centuries ago. After the Spanish Civil War ended in 1939 and Generalísimo Franco declared himself dictator of Spain, he didn’t want to hear anything about separatist movements from either the Basque Country, Catalonia, or any other provinces. Politically, he came down on them pretty harshly.

After his death in 1975, Spain reverted to a monarchy. The Basques, not knowing what line the new king, Juan Carlos I, would take, made their bid for independence loudly and clearly. That was the tumultuous ‘80s. But Juan Carlos handled the situation well, in my estimation. Although he had been taken under Franco’s wing and educated here in Spain (while his family was in exile in Portugal), he surprised everyone by having his parliament outline a plan for autonomy for all the provinces of Spain.

the Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art

Bilbão is the capital of the Basque province of Viscaya. It has always been an industrial city – not much to look at until the Guggenheim Foundation came to town. They were searching for a site to build a European art museum and had visited several candidate cities, including Madrid, but weren’t finding what they were looking for. As the story goes, they reluctantly accepted an invitation to visit Bilbão, not expecting much.

Love this crazy architecture!

But once here, they discovered the site of a former steel mill on the river, and the notion of a metropolitan conversion from industry to art appealed. The Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim opened in 1997, and other notable architects followed. A brilliant coup on the part of city planners: Soon afterwards, millions of tourists flocked to Bilbão to take it all in.

The local cuisine has flourished along with the growth of the city. In addition to the many Michelin-starred restaurants, pintxos (peent-chos) prevail. A slice of baguette topped with an infinite variety of deliciocities, the creativity of which is left to the many talented chefs. Each bar has its specialties.

Bilbão is the pintxo capital of the world

the Zubizuri pedestrian bridge

The Basques also have an interesting language, Euskara. Quite different from Spanish, it’s a riot of crazy letter combinations. They are extremely fond of x’s and z’s and repetitive syllables. Take the national white wine, txakolitxakoli, for example, and the Zubizuri pedestrian bridge. Sounds like something Dr. Suess would come up with. One of their signature dishes, bacalao al pil pil, is named for the sound of the cod juices and olive oil bubbling in the pan. How fun is that? We ate in the Café Txirimiri. I don’t even begin to know how to say the name, but the food was delicious!

Taking the scenic route

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

Sometimes I get so bogged down in the itinerary that I can’t make simple decisions: Should we take the fastest route (autopista) from Llanes to our next destination of Arrigorriaga (try saying that three time quickly – or even once!) just south of Bilbão, or the more scenic route along the coast? “The scenic route,” piped in Marcus. “We have lots of time before we need to check in in Arri-whatever.”

The scenic route it was, and I am so glad we did. What gorgeous little towns we saw along the Atlantic coast! San Vicente de la Barquera (probably the prettiest), Comillas, Santillana del Mar, and Santoña. I wanted to wrap up each one and put it in my pocket!

Sippin’ cider

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

the master cider pourer in Llanes

Marcus and I had never tried fermented cider before. The thought of drinking alcoholic apple juice just didn’t appeal. But here we are entering Basque Country where cider is the national drink. Don’t you think we ought to try it?

While sitting at a café in the main square of Llanes, the Plaza Cristo Rey, we watched the sidrería (cider house) across the way. [An aside: I just love the way the Spanish language adds -ería on to the end of any noun to yield the name of an establishment that sells the noun. You want pan (bread)? Go to a panería. We buy bread from a bakery. Bread/bakery? You want to buy carne (meat)? Go to a carnería. We buy meat from a butcher. Want sidre (cider)? Go to a sidrería. Okay, that doesn’t translate, but you get the idea.]

So back to the sidrería we were watching…. There was one particular server who took great pride in pouring cider in the traditional Basque way: Hold the bottle above your head and the glass down by your thigh with the opening pointing away from you. Then pour the cider at such an angle that it arcs and hits just inside the rim of the glass. This is called “cracking” the cider and (supposedly) makes it taste better. I’m sure just from the description you can tell this is easier watched than done. If we were going to try cider, it wouldn’t be from the comfort of our own apartment where we would end up mopping the floor. We needed to have an expert pour it, and who better than this marksman across the way.

We sauntered over. In my halting Spanish I told him that we had never tried cider before, and what did he recommend? In retrospect, I think this was probably a mistake as he brought out a bottle without a label and with an unsealed cork haphazardly stuck in the top. I ignored the little voice that told me not to drink anything unsealed, hoping the alcohol would kill any germs.

So this is how it goes: You don’t pour your own cider. The guy comes to your table when he sees that your glass is empty. And he only pours one swallow, each time from a height of probably three feet. The cider is cloudy at first, I suppose from all the cracking going on, and you’re supposed to drink it before the cloudiness settles out. But we made the mistake of sipping it. Ackkkk!

How can I delicately describe the taste? It tasted just like all the men’s rooms (and the walls of some buildings in dark alleyways) we have smelled (without trying) in Spain. We looked at each other wide-eyed. Had I made a mistake by confessing our ignorance about cider, and this was our server’s payback to all the tourists that had tormented him all day? (I’m thinking back to that unsealed bottle.) Or was the fragrance so powerful that this is the parfum that exudes from every post-processed-cider receptacle in Spain? We may never know, but you can betcha that we will never drink cider again!

Galicia: granite and grapes

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Cindy

granite posts support the fence around this home-grown vineyard

Galicia is so rich in granite and talented stonemasons that everything is made of granite – the houses, the barns, even the fence posts. We love how so many houses, even in the towns, have their own little vineyards in the backyard. This is albariño country, the delicious white wine that Galicia, especially Cambados where we had lunch, is known for.

Café radar

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Cindy

café on Illa de Arousa

I have pretty good restaurant radar – I can sense from the atmosphere of a place and the menu if it is going to be good, and it’s usually accurate. Marcus has been perfecting his café radar. (We all have to start somewhere!)

After our fantastic lunch in Cambados, we drove over the causeway to the island of Arousa (in the Ría Arousa). We stopped at a beautiful little beach, and Marcus spotted this café run by a young family. It was the perfect pick-me-up before we headed back to Santiago. The sun felt so good!

Wonderful day in Cambados

Posted on September 18, 2015 by Cindy

Cambados, España

After two straight days of pouring rain and gusting winds, we couldn’t stand being indoors one more day. Thursday promised to be partially sunny, at least on the coast, so we blew our popsicle stand in Santiago and headed toward the sunshine.

I had chosen the little town of Cambados for our escapade and ran it by our host. Yes, we couldn’t do better for a scenic village on one of the Rías Baixas, the estuaries that interlace the fingers of land reaching into the Atlantic Ocean on the western coast of Galicia, the little part of Spain that juts out over Portugal. We practically ran to the car.

I just have to interject here, for the practical traveler, that there are no public restrooms in Spain. If you feel the urge, you need to go into a cafe, bar, or restaurante. And, according to the guide books, you are obligated either to buy something when you use their facilities or leave a tip on the plate at the bar. Never having seen a tip plate on the bar, we always feel compelled to buy something – and it’s usually liquid, which kind of defeats the original purpose of visiting the establishment.

chocolate con churros (with someone’s beer and jamón in the photo)

Regardless, we had had an hour’s drive to Cambados, post-morning coffee, so we ducked into a little chocolatería/churrería near where we parked. This was my chance to taste (hot) chocolate with churros. Chocolate competes with a good Rioja wine or perhaps a Basque cider for the national drink. It’s so thick, you have to have it with churros (if you haven’t had them in the U.S., think fried dough put through a Play-doh extruder) to wipe out your cup. Delicious!

El Rincón de Tío Paco

Although the weather had improved as we headed west, there was still a threat of rain out over the ocean. We walked along the Paseo Marítimo (path along the water) when we arrived and were disappointed not to see women digging for clams, despite the low tide. (Gwyneth Paltrow’s favorite experience on her gastronomic road trip through Spain with Mario Batali.) We felt sprinkles and looked for a place to duck into for lunch. Nada. But my restaurant radar was on, and I sensed better opportunities ahead – a red awning. El Rincón de Tío Paco (Uncle Paco’s Hideout). They had a cart out front with the catch of the day, and I was in the mood for mussels and a good albariño, the best white wine in Spain. Coincidentally (or not), Cambados is the heart of albariño country.

mejillones

We spoke to José. Yes, they have mejillones (mussels), but he recommended the zambariñas (bay scallops). Great! We’ll have both with a salad and a couple of glasses of albariño.

zambariñas

We sat outside on the terrazza, the sun came out, and we had a view of palm trees with the ocean beyond and the most amazing meal so far in Spain. The mussels were good (the largest I’ve ever eaten and bright orange!), but the scallops were absolutely amazing. And the wine…. Well, let’s just chalk this one up as a good day.